


Magnolias Bloom

by taizi



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Episode 43, Episode Tag, Gen, Jeremy is p cute, M/M, Poor Cecil, Poor Khoshekh, Protective Carlos, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:38:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Khoshekh," Cecil says, and Carlos kisses his face, as wet and sticky as it is with tears.</p><p>"I know, baby. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"Someone has to suffer for this," he says then, almost plaintive, looking up at Carlos with round, hurt eyes. "Someone has to <i>suffer, </i>Carlos."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnolias Bloom

They've all been sort of still since the first initial  _ "ow! ow, oh, god- "  _ from the radio in the corner of the lab, all of them pausing to listen more intently, hands hovering over papers and beakers as they wait through the unsettling Strexcorp ad placement; and concern mounts quickly into alarm when Cecil starts shouting, and Khoshekh starts wailing. None of his scientists need an explanation when Carlos throws off his goggles and strips off his gloves.

"Let us know if they're okay, boss," someone shouts after him as he sprints out the door. He doesn't stop to respond, but they probably don't expect him to.

 _"Girl, leave your boots by the bed, we ain't leaving this room,"_ the weather croons from the car radio when he starts the engine,  _"till someone needs medical help or the magnolias bloom."_

His grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and he's still  _blocks_ away when the weather tapers off and the Voice of Night Vale murmurs,  _" Khoshekh has been hurt. Very badly."_

Carlos closes his eyes, aching for the hurt in Cecil's voice like the raw edges of a bleeding wound.

_ "He is my boy. He is my buddy- I love him, so much-" _

The red light finally changes and Carlos stomps on the gas, speeding down the road and daring-  _daring-  _the SSP to do something about it.

_ "I– I kicked it, and I kicked it again, and Jeremy helped me pin it down, and Animal Control tried to sedate it, and I wanted to beat it to death with a hammer- " _

He turns too wide, ends up double-parked, leaves the door hanging open as he all but falls out of the car and hurries into the station. Cecil isn't a violent person; for a man who grew up in Night Vale, he very rarely responds with violence to any situation,  _certainly_ isn't a killer.

But Khoshekh- Cecil's  _"baby boy"_ for practically as long as Carlos has known him- had  _never_ been a variable.

Family should  _never_ be a variable.

He skirts a few shaken interns, hears the broadcast from somewhere distant, Cecil's voice- loved and familiar- asking,  _"My gift?"_ in a tone that wavered between disbelief and creeping agony, and oh, god, how  _cruel._ Carlos pushes past Daniel, the creep, and shoves his way through to the bathroom.

"Oh, Cecil," he whispers.

His boyfriend is slumped against a wall, looking drawn and pale, eyes wet under a mess of fringe. His pants leg is torn up, he doesn't look like he's managed to clean or wrap the bite yet, and Carlos can't get a good look at it from across the room. A slim brunet is crouched beside the radio host, looking young and confused and terrified, his hand on Cecil's shoulder probably there more for his own benefit than Cecil's.

Cecil's speaking listlessly into his phone, his free hand curled into Khoshekh's empty food dish. And something in his wide eyes goes hard, and his voice goes deep and fierce.

"I'm sure there is vengeance to be found. I'm sure I will  _find it."_

Carlos can't bring himself to move forward until Cecil lowers the phone. Intern Jeremy looks up and sees him as he finally takes a few steps forward, and relief blooms across his face like watercolor.

"Cecil," the boy says, nudging him, and Cecil looks up and sees him and his whole face just  _crumples,_ and Carlos is already holding him by the time he starts sobbing; both of them grown men on the floor of a public restroom, kneeling in water and blood and scattered cat food, and Carlos presses kisses in his hair, strokes his cheeks dry with his thumbs as he cups his face and angles it up until their eyes meet.

"Khoshekh," Cecil says, and Carlos kisses his face, as wet and sticky as it is with tears.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry."

"Someone has to suffer for this," he says then, almost plaintive, looking up at Carlos with round, hurt eyes. "Someone has to  _suffer,_ Carlos."

Carlos cards fingers through Cecil's hair, pushes the bangs out of his face, thinks how much his life has changed- because he doesn't even hesitate, doesn't have to lie, when he says, "Of course they do, sweetheart. Of course they do."

And Cecil relaxes in his hands at that, doesn't smile but his eyes go soft purple the way they should always be, and when he stands it's safely, in the circle of Carlos' arms.

He doesn't let go of the cat food dish, and Carlos doesn't ask him to.


End file.
